Global IssuesAsylum-Seekers Find Refuge in a Street Paper
The reasons why people become street paper vendors are many and diverse. Some are homeless; others suffer mental or physical health problems, struggle with addiction or face unemployment. And some people do it because the magazines offer them the refuge they so desperately need.
Around the world, street papers have been welcoming people who felt too insecure to stay in their home lands. Whether or not they have official refugee status in their newly adopted countries, what these vendors often have in common is the fear of returning to where they came from.
Marian Oshoshor does not like to talk about the reasons that took her to Austria. The Nigerian street paper vendor is cheerful and lively; she prefers to talk about her costumers and how much her German has improved since she arrived - she even offers to sing because 'if you have a heavy heart, music is the best healer'. But Oshoshor, who still remembers how thin she was when she arrived in 2004, had serious reasons to fear staying in Nigeria.
She grew up in a Yoruba family on the Niger delta, that depended on farming and fishing for a living. When the time came, Oshoshor knew she would be subjected to female genital mutilation, since no woman in the village was spared from this traditional practice. She was afraid because she knew that many girls died during the procedure.
She asked a journalist to help her escape - she couldn't guess at the time that she would one day end up working in the newspaper business herself.
Oshoshor is happy she escaped, but she still bitterly remembers the reaction of the Austrian authorities when she arrived: 'The Austrian asylum authorities did not believe me. They thought I was lying.'
Tapiwa Chemhere has a different story, one of violence and poverty, but a common thread remains: fear. He escaped with his family from Zimbabwe in 2005. 'I lived in the city, but it was very violent. You were forced to support the main party, and if you didn't they would bomb your house or kill you.'
Chemhere's mother decided it was no longer safe for them to stay in Zimbabwe and escaped with her four children to Australia. Their story is far from exceptional: the economic meltdown and repressive political regime of Robert Mugabe have led to a flood of refugees. An estimated 3.4 million Zimbabweans, a quarter of the population, had fled abroad by mid 2007.
A family of costumers
Coming to a new country might save people from a potentially dangerous situation but it is not, by any means, a magical solution for all problems. Many people struggled before and even during their work as a street paper vendor.
Being a black woman in Austria, Oshoshor was told she had only one option to make money: 'Every person I asked how I could survive here said 'you have two options - prostitution in Prater, or prostitution at the West station'. But selling my body was not an option for me.'
Isaac Nwankwere's problems started right upon arrival in Austria. He escaped from Nigeria, trying to flee from a violent uncle. The local church found a possible, although irregular, way to take him out of the country: they smuggled him onto a ship.
Nwankwere, who had at that point little knowledge of the world, thought he was going somewhere else. 'They told me that I was on my way to Austria. Only I didn't know the difference between Austria and Australia. I thought I was heading for Australia.'
Even though the country was a bit different from what he expected - no sunny beaches or rugby fans - Nwankwere was happy to be in Europe. But adapting to the Austrian way of life was a challenge during the first period as a street paper vendor.
'When I started selling the Augustin (street paper) I was a black man in a country of white people and the norms of conduct, everything was different from what I had seen before in Africa. I approached my customers the way I was used to in Nigeria. I put on a lot of pressure. After two or three complaints found their way to the Augustin office I changed my behaviour. Since then there have luckily been no complaints'.
Today Nwankwere has a different problem: he is still single. 'I just can't believe that I've been in Vienna for so long and still don't have a girlfriend. Every woman in Austria is taken!' he complains.
He is thankful, though, for the affection he gets from his costumers: 'I want to thank my costumers. If I knew all their names I would name them one by one. The Austrians are very, very nice people, very kind. A big thank you to Augustin too!'
Oshoshor, who works for the same street paper, shares that feeling. The Nigerian refers to her regular costumers as 'family'. And she has her reasons for it. 'One man brings me tea almost every day, because I have to protect myself against catching a cold, he says.'
She has almost ten pairs of gloves at home because people assume that African women are more vulnerable to the cold. One costumer, who learned from Oshoshor's identity card that she had the same birthday as him, invited her to his birthday party. And a teacher gave her what she considers her 'biggest gift': she paid for German lessons, so that Oshoshor could improve her language skills.
On the other side of the globe, in Australia, Chemhere got in touch with the street paper The Big Issue Australia, and soon started selling the magazine. He says the costumers play an important role in supporting street paper vendors in difficult times.
'I work for my costumers. Some say 'I'll see you on Thursday' so I make sure I'm there. I would like to thank my costumers for helping me out. Sometimes, if you chat with someone selling the street paper, it makes our day. It makes us feel very encouraged.'
* Published under an agreement with Street News Service.
© Inter Press Service (2011) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service